


A Serious Man

by oldseafarer



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Character Study, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-02
Updated: 2012-07-02
Packaged: 2017-11-09 01:31:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/449767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oldseafarer/pseuds/oldseafarer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur realizes that the others think he has no sense of humor. They see him as a stick in the mud (though Eames seems to think the stick is some where else). He overheard someone describing him as serious as cancer. He’s picked up on the jokes, the sarcastic speculation on whether he can smile or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Serious Man

Arthur realizes that the others think he has no sense of humor. They see him as a stick in the mud (though Eames seems to think the stick is some where else). He overheard someone describing him as serious as cancer. He’s picked up on the jokes, the sarcastic speculation on whether he can smile or not.

He notices the eyes rolling and exasperated sighs when he declines to go get a beer after a training session. Eames teases him about the hours he spends running, boxing, and rock climbing. Arthur generally frowns and replies that maybe some people should spend a little more time at the gym. He likes to stay in top form. (It’s amazing how often he finds himself climbing up vertical surfaces and fighting projections.) And it isn’t that he doesn’t trust the various team members to protect him from the projections, it’s just that, well, he can just do it better.

The comments referring to him as an elitist, over educated, pretentious bastard are more common. Arthur makes no excuses for the fact that he finds Descartes fascinating (after all isn’t the issue of dreaming vs. reality rather relevant?) or that he doesn’t listen to any modern music. He doesn’t apologize for preferring a high quality lifestyle. He likes good food, expensive wine, and to be surrounded by culture thank you very much.

That’s one of the reasons he likes working with Cobb. Cobb doesn’t give a fuck. He is too absorbed in his own personal angst to care about anyone else. Unfortunately because of that, Eames is left with only one source of entertainment. To be honest Arthur enjoys the banter, the constant mocking and thinly veiled insults. Eames is good at what he does, Arthur will admit to that. However, he is still uncouth and unnecessarily crude.

They talk about a lot of things usually while they are waiting for Cobb to straighten out his own head. There is one subject they always come back to: women. Eames goes out with a different woman every night. He claims he is doing research (because women are so complex, you know, they need to be studied constantly if he wants to be able to impersonate their reactions accurately). Arthur wonders aloud what Eames likes to do in dreams with men that he needs to study that particular reaction over and over again.

The stinging reply asks the last time Arthur had gone out. With a woman. And got laid (he hated that term). It is hard for him to respond to that without sounding pathetic, so he usually opts for silence. So he doesn’t go out often, what of it? He doesn’t want to lead a woman on, nor does a one night stand interest him. Arthur finds his time valuable and refuses to waste on anyone he views as inferior. If he is going to devote his attention, his heart, to a woman, she better be his damn equal. Women deserve nothing less.

And yeah, maybe that does make his sound like a chauvinistic, arrogant pig. But he doesn’t really mind.

Then Ariadne joins the group.

That made things interesting.

At first Arthur doesn’t give her a second thought. (A college student? This was the best they could do?) She was young, and yeah she was cute. But to quote classic literature, she was tolerable he supposed, but not enough to tempt him. His respect for her begins to grow when he begins to see what she can do. The complexity of the mazes were…impressive. Cobb leaves him to train her, going off into a back room to do God knows what. Arthur’s lips twitch downward, a hint of a scowl (after all what was he? The babysitter?), but he doesn’t complain. It’s for the job. The inception job, everything needs to go perfectly.

Ariadne is a quick learner, and he rarely has to repeat explanations more than once. Instead he finds himself watching the way she bit her bottom lip while she was concentrating. The way her whole face lights up like a five year old at Christmas when she discovers a new trick. When she smiles at him he almost wants to smile back.

But he shakes himself inwardly, pulling on that mental discipline to concentrate on the job. While she was smart, she was still young and immature. What did she know of the world? Of the past, of culture? Hell, he doubted she even knew the origins of her name.

That excuse grew thinner quickly. He didn’t notice that he had begun spending his evenings with her rather than in a restaurant with a glass of wine and book. Eames would disappear to a bar every night, with a wink and nod to them both. The first night they went and got coffee, he went out of polite obligation if nothing else. Arthur had mentally steeled himself for a long evening of pointless conversation. But she had surprised him; she began talking about dreams, surrealism and Freud. For once Arthur found himself having to work to keep up with the topics. It was a challenge, dredging up interpretations of Salvador Dalí and Joan Miró.

It was a pleasant shock to discover that he was even lagging behind in the cultural references. His knowledge about movies was limited to romances from the Golden Age of Hollywood (it was a guilty pleasure that he didn’t like to admit, so usually claimed he didn’t know any movies). Ariadne was going on about German Expressionism and how those images are carried over into modern films. (He had just nodded and enjoyed how excited she was about the topic).

The following evenings included more coffee, a walk through the park, dinner at a bistro. Arthur didn’t even realize that what they were doing would be considered dating in the normal world, because he hasn’t resided in that world since college. The second evening she began telling him all about her father and best friend. The third evening her dry wit gets him to smile. On the fourth he tells her about how is family is all women. He regales her with tales of his Nana, mother and sisters. By the fifth he has relaxed enough to even laugh. On the sixth he was courageous enough to venture a joke of his own and was gratified to see it understood.

They didn’t go out every night, but after a month Eames began making waggling his eyebrows suggestively whenever Ariadne would leave the room. Even Arthur’s coldest glares and sharpest scowls didn’t work to stop the expression. If Cobb noticed, he didn’t say anything (but really, did he ever  say anything anymore?). Luckily Ariadne didn’t seem to notice, or if she did she didn’t say anything.

Arthur’s daydreams (a luxury he sometimes allowed himself) began to feature her more and more. Her face upturned towards his for a kiss. Introducing her to his family. Dancing with her across a marbled floor. Mal used to tease him about how opulent his dreams were, she would say that if he ever wanted to get out of this messy business he could make a fabulous interior designer for billionaires. He would throw her a wry smile and ask if she knew any.

After her death the wry smiles came less. She had been a friend, and Dom had been one too. But her death ripped two friends from his life and turned Dom into Cobb, the boss. So the warm feelings for Ariadne caught him by surprise. He started watching her closely, to see if his crush (God he felt like a 13 year old girl with that word) was reciprocated or not.

Ariadne was perfectly friendly. And that was it.

Arthur tried to convince himself that this was good thing, that getting involved romantically with someone you worked with was always messy. And starting a relationship with someone you dream shared with, well, Cobb was an example of how successful that was. It was better this way. Really.

Then it was time for the job.

Arthur was sure something was going to go wrong. The three days prior he had been tight with stress, like a wire pulled to breaking point. Maybe he was paranoid, but he felt like there was something he was missing. He caught the way Ariadne cautiously watched Cobb, like he was about to snap. What didn’t he know?

It turns out he was right. He didn’t know a lot, he was missing things and everything went wrong. How could he have missed that Fischer had mental security? What did Cobb mean that death in here would mean a quick trip into limbo for eternity?

Fear, panic and worry had begun to swirl within him until he pushed them down. Locked them up. He had hidden away all emotions into a safe at the bottom of his mind. He needed to concentrate. Ariadne had looked at him like he was supposed to have the answers, likehe was going to reassure her. All he could do was meet her gaze and hope it was enough.

Although the plan had been thrown out the window, they were able to move forward with some semblance of logic. The Mr. Charles had actually worked for once, even if the projections were still too aware of him. He had ordered Ariadne to kiss him, and was inordinately pleased that she did.

He didn’t like being stuck in the hotel while they all went on without him. He really wanted to say something, but what? Maybe ask Eames to look after her? Maybe tell her…what? Good luck? Don’t die? I’ll be waiting? They all sounded cliché and so he went with his default: silent professionalism.

The fact that they missed the first kick made him grit his teeth. There was no time for regrets though. He had mere minutes to fight the security and figure out a new kick. He couldn’t even enjoy anti-gravity. Arthur would later congratulate himself on the idea with the elevator, but at the time he had been too anxious. He had wedged himself into the corner, hanging onto the handle and hoping, praying, that this would work. If it didn’t they were all royally fucked. He hadn’t let himself think of Ariadne or what might be going on in the deeper levels. He hadn’t thought at all. Though that Edith Piaf song played in his head. No regrets. Did he have  regrets?

Maybe just one.

When he opened his eyes underwater and met Ariadne’s, it’s like a weight is lifted off his chest. They had done it! He had to actually work to keep from smiling as he inhaled the oxygen.

But then he realized that Cobb and Saito were still asleep.

The weight was back, and heavier this time.

Once they can breathe Ariadne explained. It helps a tiny bit. Cobb would get back. He had to. If anyone could get back from limbo twice it would be him, right? His jaw felt tight. His entire body ached. Those emotions locked down tight were beginning to leak free.

Arthur wanted to be back in the real world.

He wanted to hold Ariadne’s hand.

Instead he just sat there with water dripping down his face, realizing that if Cobb didn’t wake up he would need to do some quick thinking and make some hard decisions.

Arthur always finds it strange to wake up again. They cleaned up all signs of their activity with practiced movements. So then a few minutes later, when Fischer awoke and sat in front of him, he merely looked thoughtful. It was surreal knowing someone’s mind so well, but realizing that they have no idea who you are. The first place he looked was towards Ariadne, and the smile she sent him was strained.

The next was Cobb. He was still asleep.

Damn it.

He glances at Eames, who grimaced in reply. Saito was asleep too.

Damn it.

But his worries are for naught. They both woke.

Sort of.

They both moved like they are only half awake, like part of their minds were still in limbo. Arthur couldn’t tell if they knew that this is reality or not. He had a sinking feeling that Cobb might be experiencing this same scene in a dream, as a dream. He didn’t know. Arthur’s thought process made little sense logically, but he blamed it on the job. He always found it amusing that the first thing he wanted to do after a job like this was sleep.

They barely spoke as they left the plane; after all they were supposed to be strangers. Still Ariadne finds him outside the airport. The others had already scattered; they knew the score. You do the job; you separate and lay low until the next one. Staying together was dangerous.

But Ariadne just looked up at him, dark circles under her eyes. She asked him what was next, what they did now.

He should have told her to find a hotel and do whatever the hell she wanted. After all, she was rich now.

Instead he tells her to follow him and they go get a taxi. Arthur takes her bag in his hand and carries both their luggage to the trunk. For all of his arrogance, he did try to act like a gentleman. When it suited him. She smiled at him with tired eyes and he discovered that he was grinning back.

In the taxi he stretched out his arms across the back of the seat, mentally wishing for more legroom. But Ariadne slipped through the other door and scooted all the way over to him. He froze, not daring to move a muscle. What was she doing?

She leaned against him and sighed as if she was finally comfortable.

Arthur still didn’t move, he didn’t know how to react. The warmth sinking through his clothes (through his bones) was pleasant (more than pleasant really), but was it right? Finally he demanded to know what she was doing.

Ariadne peered up at him like he was crazy. Then she bit her lip and straightened a little. It was first time she had looked her age for a while. She explained that she was confused. That she had thought that they had something, but it had to be on hold until after the job.

Paling some more, she apologized for having the wrong idea and began to move to the other side of the seat.

Arthur stopped her. He removed his arm from the back and grasped her hand. Entwining his fingers through hers, he kissed the back of it. Don’t worry, he reassured her. You weren’t wrong.

She relaxed and smiled brightly. Sliding back over to him, she laid her head on his shoulder and began babbling about the job. About how amazing it was, how she thought that they were in trouble.

He leaned back, content to listen to her. Every once in a while he could squeeze her hand, and maybe once or twice he kissed the top of her head.

Arthur knew that he was a fairly serious person by nature. His mother had always called him an old man in a little boy’s body. Recently he had begun to confuse seriousness with lack of emotion completely. Or maybe it was that he thought that was easier, or safer, or something. He didn’t know what. Now, with a pretty woman curled up by him, he re-evaluated that position.  Perhaps emotions weren’t so dangerous after all, or maybe they were just as dangerous as thought but would provide the kick he needs to give reality some color and depth.

Or maybe he was being overly deep and cliché, and he should just live in the moment.

When he voiced these thoughts aloud to Ariadne, she informed him that he was ridiculous and kissed him. As if that was the answer to it all.

As he kissed her back, one hand at her waist, he suspected that she might be right.


End file.
